


In My Mind, You Look So Cute

by showmethebeefy



Category: Wet Hot American Summer (2001)
Genre: Am I Supposed To Capitalize Everything, Cute, Cute Dorks, Falling In Love, Gay Stuff, Happy Gay People, I Honestly Don't Know What I'm Doing Here Please Help Me, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Mild Angst, Small Fandom, Summer Camp, Tumblr Prompt, help me, no promises though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 20:04:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4535475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/showmethebeefy/pseuds/showmethebeefy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben knew the rest of the world could be harsh and cruel, and he was afraid that when summer ended the magic would go away, but Camp Firewood wasn’t the rest of the world, and they could hide from the world here.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>vignettes about the in-betweens of Camp Firewood, starring Ben and McKinley with occasional side-interludes of other characters</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My Mind, You Look So Cute

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter contains:
> 
> water balloon fights  
> self doubt  
> kissing
> 
> Don't be discouraged by the fact that it's incomplete. It's just for posting cute short stories whenever I feel I've written a good one.

Secret relationships were hard, Ben concluded mid-water balloon fight. Typically he didn’t do stuff like this, but a counselor water balloon fight was hard to pass up, especially at the chance to see Susie nailed right in her smug lording face with a balloon. He didn’t, however, count on seeing McKinley there in his short shorts and his white shirt, hurling balloons with wicked glee and taking them gamely. Honestly, he might be in love with McKinley, but he was never quite sure what the boy would do.

So yeah, secret relationships were hard, Ben decided, immediately post-McKinley taking a water balloon square to the chest. Suddenly that white shirt was transparent and McKinley was moving, somehow both jerkily and fluidly, reacting to the smack of the water balloon, and Ben could see his body move under his barely-there clothes, and it took all of his concentration not to stand there gawking at his boyfriend (that word was still new to Ben, tasting weird on his tongue and in his head), who took the blow like a champ and hurled one back at his assailant, Andy, that ass. (That ass that, admittedly, Ben had had a crush on for a short amount of time back when they both went to camp at the same time. That ass who was great at theatre and if he knew what was good for him would keep at it. That ass who probably wouldn’t.) Ben shook off the thoughts of McKinley and his beautiful body and hurled a balloon Andy-ward as well. Ben’s balloon hit Andy in his shoulder, but McKinley’s hit him square in the side of the head. Ben took a private moment to celebrate, all too soon.

“Headshot, you’re out, McKinley,” Gary called from the sidelines. McKinley made a dismissive noise and flipped off Gary before walking off towards the trees, one water balloon still dangling from his fingertips. Ben watched him go, sad to see him disqualified but all too glad to watch his legs shift and make those short shorts ride up a little higher. A little over-glad, perhaps, because he was distracted enough by McKinley’s shorts (black with white trim, white T-shirt tucked into the waistband, fabric barely reaching down far enough to be decent already, and riding higher with every movement) that Andy was able to nail him directly in the eye. The smack of balloon made hard by water against his eye was jarring, and he spun on the impact, clutching his face, mouth a hard, surprised “O” shape. He could hear Gary yelling that Andy is disqualified in the background, and of all people Susie was by his side, clutching his arm, eyes melting in a way he hadn’t seen since they were dating not so long ago. Concerned words escaped her mouth, but evaded his ears, perhaps deflected by the loud ringing in his head. Gradually her words faded in.

“…you sure you’re okay? We could take you to see Nurse Nancy. Don’t forget to harness this pain if you ever play a role again. Theatre is pain, so use this to fuel your possible future performances.” She looked like she wanted to say more but Ben started talking, interrupting, an odd thing for him to do, as he was generally so passive.

“I’m fine, Susie. I’ll just go sit down with McKinley, okay?” Satisfied, she pulled away, and Ben stumbled McKinley-ward. His secret boyfriend had a concerned look plastered on his face, leaning back against the bark of a tree. When Ben reached him, he placed his hand on Ben’s shoulder, smiling softly.

“Let’s go and sit somewhere, huh?” he suggested, and Ben nodded, clutching his eye, which didn’t really hurt too much but still kind of smarted and honestly he was going to milk the mild redness around his eye as long as he could. McKinley’s hand hadn’t left Ben’s shoulder yet, and the warmth of his palms radiated down through Ben’s body, giving him a warm feeling in his gut. He couldn’t be more in love.

“There’s a storage shed near here,” Ben suggested, looking over at McKinley with his uncovered eye. “Maybe there’s a first aid kid in there. I don’t really want to go see Nurse Nancy.”

“Nurse Nancy couldn’t do anything to help anyway,” McKinley said frankly. “Anyway, it doesn’t seem that bad, so I could probably clean it up with a first aid kit.” Ben nodded in agreement, and they fell into a pregnant silence. It seemed to stretch on for a lifetime before McKinley burst the bubble and said, “Well, let’s go find that storage shed.” His hand fell from Ben’s shoulder, and the space felt oddly empty.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding, and he smiled at McKinley. The sunlight made McKinley look like he was glistening, and made his soaked shirt look even more transparent, like a slip made of a dewdrop encased him. Ben was transfixed, rooted in his place by a guy who was much more sure of himself than Ben ever had been. So entranced was he that when McKinley started to walk it took Ben a second to recalibrate and step back into the swing of the real world, of walking and not staring too much and remembering that his eye hurt.

Ben’s free hand swung loose by his side, and the hillside was warm beneath his feet. McKinley was making faster time than he was, though he constantly glanced back at Ben to make sure he was okay. That swollen water balloon still hung from one hand, translucent in the sunlight. Ben thought it was because McKinley was in better shape than him, being more into sports and stuff. Ben was thin, and he was strong because he had to be able to lift set pieces, but McKinley was lithe and compact, a little shorter than Ben (which had made the zoot suit a little difficult), and much stronger in the legs. So he made better time than Ben, because he was used to it, but he was always ducking back, a concerned look in his eye, checking to make sure Ben was okay. It was sweet, but there was a part of Ben that felt inadequate because of it. He picked up his pace, to match McKinley, who slowed slightly for the benefit of Ben, and suddenly the back of Ben’s hand was bumping against McKinley’s. McKinley moved his hand first, but it was a joint effort, and as quickly and easily as breathing they were holding hands, their fingers intertwined and their sweaty palms clasped close together, and Ben felt tight in his chest like only McKinley made him feel. They had held hands inside the zoot suit, wrapped their arms around each other in practice, and Ben knew what McKinley’s body heat felt like and what his lips tasted like, but this was different. This wasn’t practice for a fun musical number. This wasn’t adrenaline pumping, hands clasped tight together under the fabric as they stood, waiting for their number to start, Ben’s first real performance, but not McKinley’s. This wasn’t fast and passionate in the musty backstage during intermission, caught up in a moment. This was open, on a slight hillside, just the two of them under the bright sunlight. Ben knew the rest of the world could be harsh and cruel, and he was afraid that when summer ended the magic would go away, but Camp Firewood wasn’t the rest of the world, and they could hide from the world here.

The walk was long to the storage shed, but it was refreshing, and Ben found his eye smarted a lot less by the time they reached its wooden exterior, palms still pressed together. Ben let his hand fall away as he entered in front of McKinley. The interior of the shed was cool, and light shone in through dusty windows, throwing long shadows but giving everything a golden glow. He turned, to see McKinley come through the door, and the light caught up behind him and made his mussed dark hair look as if he wore a halo.

“Go sit down,” McKinley said, and Ben was glad to obey. He sat as if all the air had gone out of him, slouched upon a little wooden box, as McKinley rustled around for a first aid kit. He came up empty handed, probably just as well, as the swelling had been mild at best to begin with and now Ben’s eye was only pink. However, McKinley grabbed a washcloth and pierced the skin of the water balloon that he had carried all this way, wetting the cloth and discarding the empty skin. He knelt, legs between Ben’s own, and pressed the wet cloth to his eye. His mouth hung slightly open, a tantalizing sight, and Ben felt the pressing urge to lean forward and kiss him. McKinley leaned closer, one hand on Ben’s knee, and Ben didn’t kiss him. His heart beat out of his chest, and he felt hot all over, but he couldn’t make himself move forward to kiss McKinley, who he was in love with, but who he hadn’t kissed since that first night. He trembled all over, and he wanted so badly to reach out and touch, but he could barely move. Instead, he tried to play a part, to make himself more comfortable.

“Is it bad, Doc?” he asked, a shaky grin on his face. He knew he was fine. McKinley knew he was fine. That didn’t mean they couldn’t pretend.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to operate, son,” McKinley replied, putting on a gruff affectation, furrowing his brows and making Ben giggle.

“Oh no,” he replied, widening his eyes and holding his hands to his face in mock terror. “Whatever will I do? I could never live without my eye!”

“I’ll do my best to save it,” McKinley assured him, clasping his hands together and doing his best to look earnest and not crack up.

“Oh,” Ben said breathily, “thank you, doctor.” He held McKinley’s hands within his own, and all his laughter disappeared, only heavy breathing and heavy heartbeats.

“You’re very welcome,” McKinley said, and then he leaned forward, bringing their lips together. It was like choking, but it was also like breathing for the first time. Second time? It wasn’t thick and rushed in the musty air of the backstage, in the post-performance glow. No, this was more soft and organic. Ben couldn’t move at first, and then he did, forward, taking from McKinley as much as he would offer. His hands hovered centimeters from McKinley’s face, wanting to pull him closer into his mouth. He wanted to give his mouth and his heart to McKinley, and take everything McKinley had to give in return. He wanted to, but they just stayed there, lit by golden light, kissing softly in the dusty shed. McKinley’s hands wrapped around Ben’s torso, holding, not roaming too much, and Ben feared for a moment that McKinley didn’t love him quite as much as much as he loved McKinley. Then McKinley pulled away, eyes concerned and a little scared, searching Ben’s eyes.

“Is this okay?” he asked, and the question hung in the air, pregnant, his face not far from Ben’s. It was Ben’s choice to make, really. He couldn’t help not speaking. He could barely think, his mouth hanging open, lips swollen, heart beating too hard for him to even think. McKinley’s eyes were soft and inviting. Ben couldn’t breathe.

“Are we…dating?” he asked, face open. The terror filled him, the thought that McKinley would say no clogging his throat. A question to answer a question, how unsatisfied McKinley must be. How unsatisfied. Ben hadn’t moved his hands, still almost touching the space where McKinley’s face had just been. He couldn’t move them. They trembled, too close to McKinley, close enough to reach out and grab him and kiss him. He ached to do just that. He couldn’t make himself move to do it, but oh did he want to.

“Yes,” McKinley said, after what felt like an eternity, and Ben let out a breath he barely knew he had been holding.

“Oh thank god,” Ben said, the words all coming out in one lengthy heavy exhale. It was such a relief, such a weight lifted. It was the grease his rusty joints needed to jerk forward, to hold McKinley’s face in his own, to pull him in for a sweeter kiss, his doubts now cleared for the most part. McKinley redoubled his own kissing efforts, and Ben laughed into McKinley’s mouth, unable to express his relief in any other way. He ran his hands through McKinley’s hair and pressed their bodies together, and felt more alive than he ever had. He kissed McKinley and imagined what it would feel like to have McKinley unbuckle his belt and curl his hands inside his shorts, rumpling the fabric, skin hot against skin. It wasn’t something Ben wanted just yet, but the thought of it terrified and delighted him. He held himself close to McKinley, kissing him deeply and breathing him in. It was all he could do. He kissed him openly and hoped never to have to let him go, hands up the back of McKinley’s shirt. One more taste, and he pulled away, smiling.

McKinley leaned back, smiling and unsteady. He reached for something to lean on, found something, and put all his weight on it. It rolled away, and he fell back onto Ben, and both of them laughed. Ben held McKinley until he was a little more oriented, even though he was just as out of it.

“Damn soccer ball,” McKinley said, and Ben’s laughter got louder. They stayed like that, propped up against the wall, laughing and holding each other, clothes rumpled and lips bruised, for what felt like eternity in a second. Ben was happy. This was perfect. He rested his forehead against McKinley’s, and felt like they were one person, breathing in unison.

“We should come here more often,” he said, and McKinley nodded. The shed was out of the way, and judging by the amount of dust in the air, it was rarely visited.

“This can be our…spot,” McKinley replied. “We can come here and meet and stuff.” Ben nodded enthusiastically.

“Sounds good to me,” he said, unable to wipe the smile off his face. McKinley loved him. They were dating. They had a place to go, to hang out or kiss or whatever. Anything. Silence fell, but it was a comfortable silence, and Ben didn’t itch to fill it.

“Should we go back now?” he asked, eventually. He wasn’t sure if they would miss them, back at camp, and honestly he was a little worried someone would come looking for them. Worse, what Susie would do to the kids she was instructing in theatre, if he wasn’t there to hold the reins.

“Nah,” McKinley said, ducking his head to snuggle up against Ben’s neck. “Let’s stay here a while. It’s nice.” Ben could feel McKinley’s vocal cords vibrating, rumbling against his body. It was like a cat purring, but better, because McKinley was a human, and much warmer, and in love with him.

“Okay,” he said, getting more comfortable against the wall. There was only so long he could stay in an uncomfortable position, even if his boyfriend was snuggling with him, and though he worried McKinley might move away, Ben shifted so he could sit more comfortably. Ben’s fears were immediately quelled when McKinley moved with him, curling up closer against his body. Ben never wanted to move again.

“Hey,” McKinley asked after a moment, “how’s your eye?” Ben looked down at the top of McKinley’s head, and smiled, before leaning his head back against the wall.

“Feeling fine, actually.” It was true. The pain was completely gone.

“Good, good. Glad to see my doctorly skills could save it.” Ben laughed at McKinley’s remark, and planted a soft kiss on his mouth.

“It’s all thanks to you,” he said. “It’s all thanks to you.”


End file.
